


so full of love

by brightlyburning



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bondage, Breathplay, Cunnilingus, Intersex, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Squirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlyburning/pseuds/brightlyburning
Summary: "Did you want to chase this year?" Ashe blurts, artless and inelegant and nothing at all like what he strives for. They aren't formally promised to each other, haven't been bound, but since the end of the war, they've circled closer and closer together, sharing meals and furtive kisses and everything but a bed.Dedue, wonder of wonders, actually sets the dishes down to tug at his scarf, and it takes all Ashe has to keep himself from laughing in adored amazement. Instead he covers his wide grin with one hand, leans on his elbow to try and make it look natural.The quirk of Dedue's brow says he hasn't been successful. Still, Dedue says, low, warm, "I would like to chase you and have you, so the world may know you've chosen me." His voice is steady, even as the tips of his ears, his cheekbones, shade red, and Ashe wants every inch of him. "I have begun making the necessary arrangements, if you accept."
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 8
Kudos: 132





	so full of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MxTicketyBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxTicketyBoo/gifts).



"Ashe," Dedue says. He lingers in the kitchen doorway, respectful as ever, and waits for Ashe to get the pan off the fire and his utensils sorted before he steps inside.

"You're just in time!" Ashe scrapes up some of the sauce from the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon, drizzles it over a forkful of freshly cooked rabbit, and offers it to Dedue, toes curling in his boots when Dedue bends to nip it off the fork, his mouth soft, his breath warm on Ashe's knuckles. "I hope it turned out well. The palace cooks will have my head if I dirtied their utensils for nothing."

Dedue's mouth curls as he swallows. "His Majesty would never allow it. Nor would I." He reaches past Ashe, his scent woodsmoke and weapons oil - ah, must've been training - and returns with a shaker of some spice Ashe had ignored, the handwriting too faded to read. "It's delicious. You might try some of this, if you want to make it more like what we ate in Duscur."

Ashe takes the shaker, can't do anything but smile up at Dedue, his heart stirring warm and gentle in his chest. "Thank you." 

"Of course." 

Ashe serves them up two plates, and they eat in companionable silence at the worn butcherblock island. It's a far better place, in Ashe's opinion, than the many formal dining rooms scattered throughout the palace. The spices are, as usual with Dedue's advice, a perfect addition, and he's most of the way through his serving when Dedue speaks again.

"They're preparing the forest outside Fhirdiad."

"Hm?" Ashe takes a moment to catch up, then flushes; it's silly of him, really, that the mating runs still fluster him, but, well, some of the stories are quite descriptive. "I hadn't realized it was so close to the height of spring. Did they ask you to help? There's all this ritual that goes into it-" he stops himself. Most people aren't interested in hearing him describe the chivalric symbolism behind the Lay of Loog and Kyphon, or the important differences between the Sreng-inflected versions and the ones that preserve pre-Seiros mythology.

Dedue pushes his cleared plate away, then interlaces his fingers on the butcherblock. "They have not, but I would like to know why they use the same forest every year. It seems predictable."

Ashe smiles, a bit rueful, shrugs. "Why do we do anything in Faerghus? Tradition. Supposedly there's a clearing in the forest where Loog finally caught Kyphon, but I've read some versions where he catches him closer to the mountains." A sudden thought occurs to him, twisting in his chest, and he reaches out to grab Dedue's arm.

Dedue, halfway through gathering up the dishes, pauses, turns fully towards Ashe. His eyes, deep and green as glacial lakes, rest on Ashe's face in silent question.

"Did you want to chase this year?" Ashe blurts, artless and inelegant and nothing at all like what he strives for. They aren't formally promised to each other, haven't been bound, but since the end of the war, they've circled closer and closer together, sharing meals and furtive kisses and everything but a bed. 

Dedue, wonder of wonders, actually sets the dishes down to tug at his scarf, and it takes all Ashe has to keep himself from laughing in adored amazement. Instead he covers his wide grin with one hand, leans on his elbow to try and make it look natural. 

The quirk of Dedue's brow says he hasn't been successful. Still, Dedue says, low, warm, "I would like to chase you and have you, so the world may know you've chosen me." His voice is steady, even as the tips of his ears, his cheekbones, shade red, and Ashe wants every inch of him. "I have begun making the necessary arrangements, if you accept."

Ashe's mind goes blank. Arrangements.  _ Oh. _ Ropes - what kind, what color, how carefully had Dedue sorted through materials and dyes and dreamed of what Ashe might look like?- and a plug. A plug for where he's tense, body suddenly yearning, as if the mere idea of being filled awakened the emptiness in him. 

"Of course!" He doesn't manage to keep his voice from cracking. Goddess, he can smell himself, the first inklings of pheromones working free at the thought of Dedue- 

"We'd have to pick a spot, though. It can get confusing, having all those people in one place, and-" he pauses, swallows, the sudden realization settling on his shoulders like an unwelcome cloak. "There's going to be a lot of alphas going after me, if Felix is any indication." Ashe has nowhere near the wealth and prestige Felix has as a duke, but he's a war hero in his own right, and there are unscrupulous sorts who'd want him only for that.

"I dare them to try," Dedue says, shoulders square, stance rooted, and there's certainty in his voice that could move mountains. 

Ashe smiles at the sudden fierceness, can't help himself, and the intensity in Dedue's expression bleeds away to be replaced by warmth and tenderness.

"There's an oak tree about a hundred feet inside the edge of the wood." He's seen it before on hunting trips with Felix and Dimitri, the rest of the year when the forest isn't a ritual space. "It has a lightning strike down the west side of the trunk that tore off the bark."

Dedue's watching his mouth as he talks, his focus like a brand, and Ashe finds himself wetting his lips, breathing,

"If that's all right?"

Dedue blinks, then looks up to meet Ashe's eyes. A flush colors his cheeks, the tips of his ears, at being caught staring, and he says, hesitant, "Of course. So you're sure, then? Of me? I know that I-"

"If you're planning to say anything about you being from Duscur and why it should make me reconsider, please rethink that," Ashe cuts him off, cheerfulness laced with an edge. "We know each other better by now."

Dedue practically swallows the words, then nods. "I understand." There's a slight tremble to his voice. "It's simply hard for me to believe-"

For Goddess' sake. Ashe snatches up Dedue's giant hand in both of his, pulls it to his mouth. "I choose you, Dedue Molinaro," he says, steady, a bit proud of himself for not bursting openly into tears. "Every time." A kiss to the first knuckle. "Every day." Another kiss, the daring flick of his tongue against the web between thumb and forefinger, and Dedue inhales sharply. "Every month and every year. For the rest of our lives, if you'll have me."

Dedue answers by tipping his chin up into a lingering kiss.

* * *

The pen for the omegas is eerily quiet, though there's more runners than Ashe thought there would be, garbed in their thin white robes and wolf masks. Felix is likely among them, probably near the gate so he can get ahead of the pack as soon as possible. 

The alpha pen on the other side of the fence rings with snarls, shoving, every once in a while the meaty thud of a fist into flesh. Dedue's there, with the rope - and already Ashe's wrists tingle, as if awaiting the binds - and the plug -

His cunt pulses, and it's all Ashe can do to not reach down and press the heel of his hand there to try and calm the ache. He'd been stirring with heat that morning when he got up for the ritual bath, cock nudging at his fingers, his cunt already a little swollen, slick pink flesh peeking out between his lips. It'd been hot against the cup of his palm when he washed there, exquisitely sensitive, and even now there's slick on his thighs.

The air prickles over his skin, pulls his skin into goosebumps. The linen robe scrapes at his nipples, stiff and aching with the advent of heat, and he can hardly work up any moisture in his mouth. Even though the morning air is cool, he's flushed, damp with sweat, and can't get it out of his eyes without jostling the mask, and-

The gate creaks open. A few of the omegas at the front snarl at each other, shoving and pushing, clods of grass tearing from the earth beneath them, and then the gate opens wider, enough for him to spot an opening, a space between two pairs of omegas locked in scuffles. 

He bolts. The sudden brightness of the grass after so long in the pen, the mingled scents of the onlookers, the dark forest sprawling before him - they surge like a wave, overwhelming, and the animal part of his brain, closer to the surface with heat, demands he run, hide.

No. He plants himself beside the forest edge, turns to gaze up at the still-closed alpha pen. He'll wait for Dedue, trusting that Dedue will handle any alphas Ashe can't handle himself. Ashe is no brawler, preferring a bow in his hand over anything else, but the professor had made sure all of their Lions knew the basics of hand-to-hand. Besides, Ashe has chosen his hunter already.

The other omegas dart past him, a riot of scents all beckoning _hunt me, catch me, breed me_ , and Ashe alone remains on the open lawn, exposed.

There's a sudden silence in the stands, where the onlookers usually whoop and applaud the participants, and Ashe's neck warms at the knowledge of those eyes on him. He stands out like a beacon against the deep green of the lawn, the inviting shadows of the trees, and no doubt many of the onlookers are wondering just what's gotten into him-

A robed nun moves to one side of the gate to the alpha pen, a monk to the other side. They take up the bars holding the gate shut, rattling in their iron brackets as the alphas behind it hurl themselves against the wood. Slowly, deliberately, they begin to pull the bars free.

Ashe's breathing speeds, is too loud, too hot, caught beneath the stiffened leather of the wolf mask. His thighs tense, anticipating, and it's all he can do to not rub them together, try to quiet the aching desire burning low in his body. 

The gates fly open beneath the weight of the bodies pressing on it, and even though Ashe knows to expect it, he can't help jumping at the crushingly loud bang of the gates smashing into the walls. He can't see much for a moment, too many people, too many bodies, all writhing and shoving and scrabbling, but finally someone breaks through the scrum to pelt down the low hill towards the forest.

Like soldiers looking for a banner on the battlefield, the other alphas follow. They come in a wave of various colors, rope wrapped around waists or arms, some without shirts at all, others in formal clothing, and the sound of them - feet slamming into the damp earth, snarls when a challenger gets too close, rough panting - has Ashe licking suddenly dry lips. Some skid down the hill, get too enthusiastic, and tumble the rest of the way; others turn sideways and pick their way, mingling fussiness with efficiency. Most of them, catching some scent they like, ignore Ashe entirely and race into the woods. Behind him, branches snap, bodies thud to the forest floor, moans and giggles rise like awakened birds in the dawn.

Dedue's gaze settles on him, warm and known as a well-loved scarf, the bend of a favorite bow in the hand, and Ashe looks up, drawing in a breath.

His hunter stands at the brow of the hill, unmoved by the crowd rushing around him like water about a stone: solid, trustworthy, immutable. He seems to glow in the sun, hair and scars bright with the pale light of morning, and wrapped in several coils over one shoulder, across his bare chest, rope.

Blue and orange and white, one color fading into the next, and Ashe's heart rises into his throat with sheer feeling: how hard Dedue must have worked to find someone who could dye rope the way he wanted, how thoughtful he must have been-

Damn the mask, he reaches up and dashes the welling tears from his eyes anyway.

Dedue's generous mouth curves into a smile, and Ashe, hiccuping a laugh, can't help but return it. His hunter moves into a jog downhill: steady, certain, every bit of his attention, his devotion, focused on Ashe.

A sudden pungent stink rises in Ashe's nose. Before he can think, the brute animal part of him, so close to the surface today, has him growling, snapping teeth and twisting away from the pawing hands of an alpha. The man's big, drunk with rut, his cheeks flushed and his eyes hazy, and thank the Goddess for it; he's slow and clumsy, and Ashe's able to sidestep his charge and kick him in the back of the knee, sending him sprawling.

The motion, the defiance, attracts attention. A male alpha beside Dedue changes course, path intersecting with Ashe, and speeds up. One who'd been heading for the forest pauses, cocks her head, heavy gaze settling on Ashe.

Dedue, calm, muscle rolling in thick cords beneath his skin, twists. One hand loops into the rope about the man's waist, and without breaking stride, Dedue bends, scoops the man's leg up in his other arm, and hurls him aside without even a grunt of effort. His gaze remains on Ashe the entire time, and yes, all right, Ashe is grinning now, open and unseemly.

Dedue hits the level plain of grass that leads to the forest, and Ashe starts to walk backward, the old footwork returning to him now. He's just starting to get the first hints of Dedue's scent: confidence, desire, rut. 

The female alpha who'd looked him over casts her gaze at Dedue, then seems to decide Ashe is worth the risk. She breaks into a run, aiming to cut Dedue off, while nearer him the alpha Ashe had downed rises onto his feet, groaning. 

His bleary eyes dart to Ashe, lingering on the edge of the wood, and then to the woman, and Dedue. Ah: they're going to gang up on him, try to take him out before turning on each other. He charges Dedue, and so does the woman. The stands erupt in cheers.

Before Ashe's heart can even skip a beat, the fine skin at the corners of Dedue's eyes creases with a smile. 

The male alpha bends, tries to get an arm about Dedue's knee, the other hand at his shoulder to throw him, but Dedue's rooted to the earth as if it's a battlefield. He twists with the man's push, brings his knee up to smash into his challenger's shoulder, and uses the momentum to pick the man up, both arms about his waist, and throw him aside. The challenger skids across the damp grass, water spraying in his wake, and Ashe's body tightens and trembles with longing.

The woman crashes into Dedue from the side. She's got some training, tries to get a hand up to his ear and twist it, but Dedue, implacable, patient, bears the pain long enough to shove her, open-palmed, away. Too surprised to make a sound, she sails back, wide-eyed, and slams onto her back in a puddle.

The crowd, which had gone silent, cheers again, a riot of noise and motion.

Dedue pays them no mind. His focus is solely on Ashe. 

Ashe waits by an oak, one hand resting on the tree trunk. The bottom of his robe clings muddy and damp to his bare ankles, but the discomfort's nothing next to the warmth of Dedue's gaze.

Heart pounding, he flashes Dedue a grin, then twists to bolt into the forest. 

The forest flashes by, darkness then light then darkness again, his ears full of others' cries and moans, the snap and crash of people crashing through brush and thicket. The world smells fresh, and new, and warm with desire and promise. 

There, the oak, with its pale western trunk where the bark was blasted away. He darts toward it, then scrabbles up into the lower branches of the tree, perching back on his heels to wait for Dedue.

A minute or so slips by, and his heart beats loud in his ears and pulses warm in the walls of his cunt. The white robe sticks to his skin with slick, molds itself over his little cock, the puffy lips of his cunt. He shifts, pushes his hands between his knees to keep from touching himself, and-

"Ashe."

He startles, but manages to keep his position, twisting to spot Dedue on the eastern side of the clearing. 

Dedue's mouth tips into a smile as he steps further into the light. His chest, broad and sweat-damp, rises and falls with quick breaths, and Ashe's palms itch to touch, his fingers to knot themselves in the silver hairs arrowing down his flat stomach into his-

Oh.  _ Oh _ .

He's felt Dedue's cock through his clothes, knows it's big, but seeing it fully erect, tenting Dedue's loose trousers, a damp spot at the head, has him swallowing down a noise.

"Dedue," he says, and he's breathless with want.

Dedue pauses just beneath Ashe's branch, reaches up to wrap his hand about one of the smaller branches. His nostrils flare, inhaling Ashe's scent, and he makes a low sound, deep in his chest, all warmth and need, that makes Ashe want to kiss it out of his mouth.

"You smell-" Dedue starts, and then he shakes his head. His eyes meet Ashe's, dark, wanting, and with brutal honesty, he says, "I want to spread your thighs and eat you whole." His smile grows at Ashe's shudder, the sudden warmth of a new wave of slick down his thighs. "I can smell you, ready for me. Wet for me." His knuckles whiten on the branch, and he takes another deep breath. "Must I shake you from this tree like a ripe fruit?"

Traditionally, of course, omegas are supposed to run, to fight back before yielding, but Ashe has already run and he's greedy for more touch, the press of Dedue’s mouth on his. Instead, he curls his own hand about the branch beneath him and swings down into Dedue's arms, against the broad chest promising shelter and safety.

Dedue’s broad palms curl about Ashe’s shoulder, his knees, and he gazes down at Ashe with such utter fondness in his eyes that Ashe-

Well, he rips off the mask, loops his arms about Dedue’s neck, and pulls him into a kiss: messy, passionate, biting at Dedue’s bottom lip just to hear him groan, feel his big hands bite against his skin. 

“Minx,” Dedue says when he pulls back, breath like another kiss across Ashe’s lips. 

“Yours,” Ashe says, and shivers when Dedue’s eyes darken. 

“Mine,” Dedue agrees, and carefully sets Ashe down on the uneven ground, Ashe shivering at the sudden reminder of how different they are in size. His gaze travels from Ashe’s dirty feet in their borrowed sandals, up his legs, pausing on where Ashe’s cock presses against the robe, and then further, lingering where Ashe’s nipples catch at the fabric, and then to his bitten lip, his eyes.

“You are lovely,” he says, and the words ring like they’re holy. 

“No more than you.” It’s true; Dedue’s broad and tall, his scars a testament to his fierce loyalty, his knuckles and palms callused with the reminders of war, and yet, still,  _ still  _ he remains gentle and kind, for all the world has tried to break him.

Thankfully Dedue remembers Ashe’s stubbornness, and so doesn’t try to turn aside Ashe’s words: only nods, cheeks and ears flushed, and reaches out to touch. His fingers tremble when they pick apart the knots holding the thin robe shut, and Ashe shrugs out of it, then kicks it away from around his ankles, leaving himself bare.

There's the urge to cover himself, as there always is, but he trusts Dedue implicitly: has chosen him, will choose him again. So instead he keeps his hands at his sides, and offers himself: flushed, his cock peeking shyly out of silver curls, little nipples tight and peaked in the cool dawn air.

"Beautiful," Dedue murmurs, and reaches out, curls broad strong fingers about the dip of Ashe's waist. "Do you feel pain anywhere? Any stiffness?"

Always thoughtful, his Dedue. 

"My right arm and shoulder are a bit stiff, but that's normal for the morning." Years of drawing and releasing a bow have worn his joints, and in winter especially it aches.

Dedue makes a thoughtful sound. He releases Ashe and begins to uncoil the rope wound about his chest, orange and blue and white flickering through his fingers. "Can you straighten it or fold it behind your back?"

It takes Ashe a moment to respond, too entranced in the promise of the rope, but finally he startles. "Oh! Of course!" He turns, demonstrates his range of motion, the point where it turns from stretch to pain, and Dedue watches him with intense consideration.

"Good," Dedue says. It turns out he brought many different ropes, all tied together into one, and now he lays them out in careful order while Ashe watches, shifting from foot to foot. 

Then, another kiss, the head of Dedue's cock nudging against Ashe's belly, when Dedue brings Ashe closer and begins to bind him. Ashe had been expecting, and yes, all right, hoping for something quick, something that would allow them to move on to Dedue's hands on him, his mouth, his tongue, but Dedue is patient as ever. He stretches Ashe's arms straight out behind him, has him interlace his fingers, and binds his arms together.

"Like the wings of a dragonfly," Dedue says, low, and the vibration of his voice shakes through him into Ashe, and Ashe shivers, makes a sharp, wanting sound. His cunt throbs, aches with the emptiness, the nearness of Dedue. The air shimmers with desire.

The sound makes Dedue glance at him, and whatever he sees on Ashe's face has his stern expression gentling even as his cock leaps against Ashe's stomach. "Do you need me now?"

Ashe swallows. Realizes, with a belated hitched breath, that his hips have been rolling against the air, against the solid pressure of Dedue's thigh. The heat of his blush spreads down his neck, begins to join with the red on his chest. "I can wait," he manages, even as the greedy part of him wails at the self-denial. 

It's worth it for Dedue's smile. "I'll be quick," he says, and true to his word, he is; he creates a web of rope about Ashe's chest, tying two cruel lovely little knots that tease at Ashe's nipples, and then joins the many strands together in two great knots. Then he eases Ashe to the ground, and winds more rope where his ankles touch his thighs, until Ashe is utterly caught. Arms bound behind him, ankles trapped against thighs, and he's-

Vulnerable. On display, his thighs spread wide, his chest thrust out, and the knowledge that Dedue is looking at him, his dark gaze drawn to where Ashe's slick and hot and-  _ dripping _ , literally wet with want, has him squirming in the ropes, biting back a moan when the two knots on his chest drag hot and prickling over his nipples, and oh-

Dedue's breathing speeds. His scent - satisfaction, possession, the sharp and increasing warmth of need- clouds the air as he kneels and loops one last set of ropes. They go through the big knots on Ashe's front, one just above his collarbones, one on the flat of his belly, and then he takes the loose ends and tosses them up over the sturdy lower branches of the tree.

Ashe's mouth goes dry. "You're going to-" he manages, voice breathy, and then trails off into giggles. Of course Dedue wouldn't be satisfied with something easy, a rope collar or a hogtie; he knows beauty, cultivates it, and the idea that he would see something beautiful in Ashe has Ashe choking back an overwhelming wave of feeling.

Dedue, the ends of the rope gathered in one hand, crouches before where Ashe is bound. A deep red flush colors his ears, the bridge of his nose. His lips shine where he's licked them, the bottom one a little swollen from Ashe's teeth. His eyes shine dark, hungry, and his gaze is like a line of heat where it lingers over the slick on Ashe’s thighs, the curve of his cock.

“Yes,” he says, simple, and his broad palm curls about the back of Ashe’s head and holds him still for a kiss, this one harder, staking a claim, before he sits back on his heels and tugs at the rope.

Gravity loosens its hold, the ropes tightening, the knots rubbing and pressing, and Ashe lifts into the air with a gasp. The branch creaks, but holds, and then Dedue shifts the ropes, adds slack to one and tightens the other, and Ashe’s hips rise until they’re almost level with his head. Then, a few more steady pulls on the rope, and Ashe is suspended at just the right height for Dedue to do-

Well, whatever he likes, and that makes Ashe squirm, dizzy with the knowledge of it, the submission. “Dedue,” he breathes, and Dedue, tying off the ropes, turns with a slow smile before he steps away from the tree and presses Ashe’s knees apart. 

It’s not as though Ashe wants to resist, but there’s something about Dedue’s hands, how big they are on his thighs, how he can almost encompass Ashe’s knee in one curled hand, and the inexorable strength of him, the sheer power of him, that makes Ashe gulp for breath, make a tiny, overwhelmed sound.

“When I saw you this morning,” Dedue steps between his spread thighs, drops his gaze to where Ashe’s cock rises hopefully into the air, the head blushing pink, the slit crowned with a bead of clear fluid, “so brave, so defiant, I knew. You were all I would want in this life.” 

Ashe shudders, breathes, “ _ Please. _ ”

Dedue palms at the tender inside of one thigh, his thumb skating so close to where Ashe’s hungry for him. His voice drops, dark and hungry. “What would you like, my Ashe? My mouth? My hand?”

“You said you wanted to eat me whole,” Ashe manages around the cresting need, his hands curling into fists in their binds. He squirms again in the ropes, swinging a bit, and bites back a frustrated sound. Goddess, he’s so hot, so empty-

Dedue drops to his knees. His hands cup Ashe’s cheeks, rough, callused, and steady him. Then, holding Ashe’s gaze, he leans in, warm breath sighing across Ashe’s cunt - Ashe hiccups, tries to get closer, but is stopped by the careful tightening of Dedue’s fingers - and then Dedue opens his mouth and fits it over where Ashe’s aching.

Ashe’s mind goes utterly blank, wiped clean by the wave of pleasure, the frantic burn of the fact that  _ Dedue is licking him open _ . And not just that, but  _ luxuriating  _ in it, drawing the swollen folds of Ashe’s labia between his lips, daring to try a nibble over the soft flesh so Ashe’s toes curl, his tongue wet and hot and soft and-

Ashe’s coming before he even realizes it, the muscles of his thighs straining against the binds, arching into the ropes, against Dedue’s mouth, with a cry. The tip of his cock smears wet across Dedue’s sharp cheekbone as his hips jerk with each rolling wave of climax, and Dedue holds him steady and lets him take his pleasure.

Dedue pulls away with a filthy sound. His skin gleams with Ashe’s slick, and while Ashe watches, half-stunned, his tongue darts out, licks every droplet off his lips.

“Sorry, that was, er, faster than I normally-” Ashe starts, curling and uncurling his fingers to work out the cramps. 

Dedue skims a hand up to rest it just below the knot on his belly. His hand spans Ashe’s waist. “I wanted you to. Besides,” and his slow smile promises more, “I have yet to taste all of you.”

“You want to-” but really, Ashe shouldn’t be surprised; Dedue loves to give pleasure, would never hold with outdated ideas that only the alpha receives attention to their cock.

“Yes,” Dedue says, and with the hand still on Ashe’s rear, steadies him again and leans in. However, he doesn’t fit his mouth around Ashe’s cock, as he’d been expecting; rather, he presses his tongue inside him, groaning at Ashe’s startled sound, the clench of his body about it. He curls it, laps at the inside as if drawing more of Ashe’s slick into him, then swallows, drags his tongue out, and sits up. His eyes blaze.

“Delicious,” he says. The hand that had been resting on Ashe’s belly skims down, a line of fire, and so gently Ashe’s heart could break, he wraps three of his fingers about Ashe’s cock. It doesn’t even fill his hand, only the very tip of it - the needy slit - peeking over the edge of his middle finger. 

Ashe gulps a breath, tries to work his hips up into that sweet pressure, and Dedue lets him, the tilt of his mouth amused. 

“Your cock is so delicate in my grip,” and Dedue circles the pad of his thumb around Ashe’s slit, wets it with the beads of precome welling there, “-and so strong.” His grip tightens as he pulls his hand off, slips it down to wet it with Ashe’s slick, and then returns, stroking it down over Ashe’s cock. 

Ashe cries out, the sound forced from his chest at the explosion of pleasure, and fights the ropes, arches his hips into Dedue’s grip. The motion makes the knots drag across his nipples, sparking hot and bright beneath his skin, behind his eyes.

"There you go," Dedue murmurs, and then, trailing up the crease of Ashe's rear, he slips a finger inside Ashe's cunt, the entrance stretching about his huge finger in a sweet burn. Goddess, Ashe can hear it, the wet slick noise of his own body. Dedue's finger is thick, long, and instinctively he clenches on it, around it, and then Dedue twists his finger, knuckle rubbing against his sensitive walls, and curls it up and in towards the root of his cock.

"Oh-" Ashe moans, so loud it surprises even himself, and shudders, shoulders straining against the rope bonds. The branches creak as he tries to arch his back, rub that sore swollen spot Dedue found so unerringly against his fingertip, but, no, he wants Dedue to keep stroking his cock, too, adores the sight of his slick pink tip peeking past Dedue's fingers.

Everything aches, everything hungers, his entire messy lower body sings with need, and the desire and the frustration and the heat comes boiling up into Ashe's throat, into the tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. 

Dedue, wonderful Dedue, solves the problem. He slips another finger inside Ashe, gaze sharp on where Ashe's mouth drops open on a sob. His fingers are rough, callused from shield and axe, but Ashe's so wet, so hungry, that his fingers slide and curl and press easily, smoothly, and when Ashe strains his neck, he spots his slick shining in Dedue's upturned palm. 

There's a new pressure building inside him with each dragging press of Dedue's fingers, the pull of them - like he needs to go, but not the same, just a steady build of pressure, heat - his toes curl, the long muscles of his thighs and calves tremble, and he gasps, 

" _ Dedue-! _ "

"My Ashe," Dedue says, adoring, and then he bends. He opens his mouth, curls his tongue about the root of Ashe's cock, and pulls it in. Dedue's mouth is hot, wet, steady suction that milks at him mercilessly, his tongue soft, cupping the bottom of his shaft, and then, oh-  _ oh-  _

He swallows around Ashe's stiff length, mouth going tight, flicks the tip of his tongue at Ashe's slit, and Ashe shudders, slams his eyes shut, and cries out, "Oh,  _ please- _ "

All of him draws tight, seems to spill from his cock onto Dedue's tongue in great pulses of warmth, but then. The pressure building in his cunt fractures, and he bucks in Dedue's grip, against his mouth, his fingers, unable to make a sound as fluid squirts from his cunt with each unerring press of Dedue's fingers. Goddess, he can hear it spattering against Dedue's broad chest, but before he can even think to say something Dedue suckles at his cock, strokes fingers against his walls, and Ashe crumbles into sobs of overwhelmed pleasure.

It's like the tension of years has flowed out of him down Dedue's throat. He swings, utterly limp in the bonds, trusting them to hold him up, and the steady pressure is like an endless embrace. He gasps for breath. Faint red shapes form behind his closed eyelids, the light filtering through the branches of the tree.

The fingers filling him, the soft heat surrounding his limp cock, pull away. Leaves crunch as Dedue rounds him, and then blunt careful fingers curl about Ashe's jaw and tilt him to face Dedue. 

Ashe eases his eyes open, and Dedue's there, gazing down upon him with a soft smile. His thumb runs gently beneath Ashe's eye, stroking at the drying tear tracks. Ashe's slick glitters in little droplets across the swirls of his chest hair, and one big drop lingers atop Dedue's nipple. 

"Dedue," Ashe breathes, and then opens easily, gratefully, to Dedue's kiss. His lover's tongue sweeps into his mouth, a strange flavor accompanying it, and Ashe realizes with a little thrill and squirm that he's tasting his own spend. The filthiness of it, the intimacy of Dedue swallowing and sharing this part of him, has a spark of pleasure running up his spine, his body clenching around empty air. He must make some tiny sound, for Dedue replies with a low rumble, the kiss turning harder, more possessive, imprinting itself upon Ashe's lips.

He pulls back, and his words flutter across Ashe's half-open lips when he says, "You are gorgeous in your passion, my Ashe. I have no words for it, or for my fortune in you gifting me yourself."

"You're handsome, too." Oh. His voice is more a rasp now than anything else, but well, Ashe would defy anyone to not make noise when Dedue Molinaro is focused entirely on their pleasure. 

The thin skin around Dedue’s eyes creases when he smiles, and Ashe is just gone on this man. He rubs his cheek against Dedue’s palm, the warmth and solidity of it sparking on his skin, and then goes loose and liquid again when his gaze drops to Dedue’s groin.

His cock tents his loose white trousers, the dark pink head, the teardrop-shaped slit, the curved ridge of the crown all visible where the fabric sticks to his skin. And not just long, but thick, too, and gracefully curved, and Ashe shivers at the greedy clench of his body, the image of that girth, hot and hard, pressing into him, spreading him wide.

“Let me see you, it’s only fair,” Ashe says, trying to twist a bit more in his bonds to see Dedue fully.

Dedue’s ears pinken adorably, and Ashe bites his lip to try and hold in his smile. Dedue hooks his thumbs in his waistband, toes off his sandals, and pushes his trousers down and off. As the waistband clears the head of his cock, it springs up, kisses wetly against the hard ridges of his belly and leaves a shining patch.

“Oh,” Ashe breathes. He licks his lips, then swallows the breathless sigh he wants to let out. “You’re big.” At the base, mirroring the wrinkled drawn-back foreskin, sits another circle of wrinkled skin, where Dedue’s knot will form when he’s inside Ashe. 

Dedue wraps his hand around his shaft, then strokes slowly down. The muscles of his arms and chest, his beautiful thighs, clench as he strokes, his toes curling in the leaves, and he huffs a deep wanting breath through his nose. He thumbs the deep divot beneath the head of his cock, rocks up onto his toes, and Ashe’s mouth waters. He wants to slide down onto Dedue, work his body around that warmth, feel Dedue shudder and come-

“Ashe.”

He realizes belatedly that Dedue’s stopped stroking himself and forces his attention back to Dedue’s face.

Dedue’s brow quirks in a faint smile, all-too-aware of what Ashe was focused on. “Are you ready?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Ashe blurts, and Dedue’s smile grows. He ducks beneath Ashe’s upraised thigh, places a kiss on his kneecap so sweet Ashe’s eyes burn, and takes his place. 

“So lovely here,” Dedue’s fingertips press at where Ashe’s open, and he dips his fingers in enough to draw out more of Ashe’s slick, paint it over his cock. 

It’s not  _ enough _ , and Ashe tries to swing closer, sink himself down onto Dedue. He grunts with frustration as the blood-warm tip of Dedue’s cock almost breaches him, presses at his entrance, and gasps, heartbroken, when he swings away again. Dedue’s  _ here _ , his alpha’s  _ here,  _ and he’s not doing anything-

Dedue reaches up Ashe’s body and curls his broad callused hand about Ashe’s throat. “Be still,” he says, and Ashe-

Ashe freezes. A warm swell of arousal washes over him, leaves him goosebumped and shuddering, all of it centered in two places: the faint brush of Dedue’s cock against his cunt and where his blood thuds against Dedue’s palm. He swallows, feeling his throat bob against the web of skin between Dedue’s thumb and forefinger. The knowledge of it, of how much he’s trusting Dedue, the power in Dedue’s hands that he knows will never be used against him, has his cunt dampening with a fresh pulse of slick.

Dedue’s gaze flicks from his hand on Ashe’s throat to his cunt to Ashe’s eyes. He licks his lips, then says, slow, so careful Ashe’s heart could break, “Do you want me to keep my hand there?”

“Please,” Ashe breathes, and Dedue nods.

“Very well.” He bends, presses a kiss where Ashe’s cock is stiff and dripping again, and breathes, “How I adore you.”

Ashe starts to answer, but instead cries out, sound thrumming in his throat, as Dedue shifts and tightens his grip on his throat, his other hand wound in the ropes, and pulls Ashe onto him. There’s no pain, only a deep sense of relief, of utter  _ fullness _ , as Dedue presses inside him; the broad head of his cock dips past Ashe’s entrance with an audible sound, and then Ashe inhales a deep breath as Dedue works further in.

Dedue tips his head back, all the tendons in his neck standing out, and groans between gritted teeth. His hand on the rope goes white-knuckled. “Ah, Ashe- you’re so tight, so good-” he pauses, trembling, and tips his head forward to meet Ashe’s gaze, fingers flexing about Ashe’s throat. Sweat dapples the hollow of his throat, beads along the line of his nose. “Are you well?”

Ashe manages a nod, his chin pressing against the side of Dedue’s hand. His body is alive, electric - every squirm or shift has him clenching, and Dedue’s so big that any motion has him rubbing against something that feels good, and then Ashe tightens again, and it turns into a never-ending loop of pleasure that makes him squirm, makes Dedue’s eyes darken as he watches Ashe chase his pleasure.

Dedue nods in turn, grave. His grip firms. He draws back, gaze darkening at Ashe’s helpless sound, the way he tries to clench down harder, keep him inside. 

“Please,” Ashe manages, past the blood thudding in his veins, the unmet need, and Dedue thrusts back in, burying himself to the hilt. The pressure, the sharp spike of pleasure as Dedue seats himself, jars another moan out of Ashe, has him shuddering and writhing in the ropes, pinned between Dedue’s cock and hand.

Dedue sets his pace: steady, hard, each snap of his hips ending with a deep rolling grind that has Ashe’s toes curling, pushes another sound from Ashe’s chest, past the careful collar of Dedue’s fingers. His cock is a delicious heavy weight inside Ashe, and every push and thrust and grind tugs at Ashe’s sore rim, stretched about its girth, and shoves him into Dedue’s hand, into his grip, the threat of his air dwindling making Ashe tremble.

The clearing fills with the sounds of their bodies: the wet slap of Dedue’s hips slamming in, the reedy sound of Ashe crying out, cracking with the impact of Dedue’s movements, the great bellows of Dedue’s chest expanding, contracting on explosive breaths as he spreads his legs and plants his feet.

Goddess, Ashe knew Dedue was powerful, but this is Dedue as an alpha in rut, intent on claiming and knotting. Ashe has no control, can only trust the ropes and Dedue and  _ take  _ it, breathless with overwhelming pleasure, breathless with the bite of Dedue’s hand at his neck, lightheaded with the roaring fire of arousal.

He comes again, or maybe never stops coming, his body quaking and his cunt fluttering about the thick bar of Dedue’s cock, and Dedue, his gaze intent, piercing, fucks him through it. Then, something in Dedue’s expression tenses further, and Ashe realizes through the slow syrupy pleasure of it all that he hasn’t been pulling back as far as he used to. That his cock, already so wide, stretches him a little further, and  _ yes _ .

It’s Dedue’s knot.

“Give it to me,” he begs, voice more a wheeze than anything else, but Dedue, careful as ever, hears him. His fingers flex and shift on Ashe’s throat, tighten just a bit, and the blood-hot solidity of his knot bumps at Ashe’s entrance, presses, pauses-

Ashe bares his teeth, and Dedue listens.

Again, steady, unrelenting, he pushes, and for a delirious moment Ashe thinks he can’t, he can’t possibly take all of Dedue, so huge and thick, but then Dedue sinks  _ inside _ him, all of him, the knot passing Ashe’s entrance and locking into place. Ashe is caught, claimed, held there as an endless shuddering wave of climax spills over him, out of him on a long wail of Dedue’s name.

Dedue pushes deeper. His hand trembles on Ashe’s throat. He groans with each inch gained, and then whispers Ashe’s name when he’s in as far as he can go.

Ashe’s crying, tears spilling hot over his cheeks, but he’s not sad- just overwhelmed, at the enormity of this feeling, the strange feeling of  _ rightness  _ at having Dedue within him. The pleasure’s deep, gutting, tinged with a bright edge of pain - impossible for it not to be, with Dedue’s size - and oh,  _ oh _ -

He tries to clench about Dedue’s knot, and the pressure of it at the root of his cock makes more come spill with each shift of Dedue’s cock within him, another endless circle of pleasure.

“Gorgeous,” Dedue breathes, and he slips his hand from Ashe’s neck, draws it down his quivering belly to spread his lips. He traces where they’re locked, where Ashe’s trembling and stretched and taken, sore and slick, and murmurs, “Such a beautiful pink, turning to white. Like the flowers of Duscur in spring.”

Ashe starts to say something, something worthy of such open adoration, but it disappears in a hitched moan as he feels Dedue start to come: warmth inside him, getting pushed deeper as Dedue’s hips roll and push closer, tighter, as if he can’t help it, their bodies calling to each other. 

His eyes are hazy with tears, his limbs ache with heavy exhaustion, and he is sated in a way he’s never been, could never have dreamed of being, all those long years ago in winter streets. Safe, and protected, and wanted fiercely for who he is and not a bit less.

He closes his eyes, trusting that Dedue will handle the rest.

* * *

Ashe feels soft. Soft, warm, relaxed, utterly free of worry or tension in a way he can never remember being. A bit sore, his body twinging with the pleasant ache of being well-used, well-loved, his thighs and abdomen a little more sore from the cramps of climax, but - he stretches, Dedue’s warm arms tightening about his shoulders - it’s well worth it.

“Dedue,” he murmurs, and cracks one eye open to grin up at Dedue, who looks back at him with helpless fondness. He holds Ashe like he’s precious, but not like he’s fragile, trusting Ashe implicitly to say what he wants and needs. “My alpha.” The words fizz on his tongue with a new and surprising delight, and Ashe will never grow tired of saying them.

“Yours,” Dedue says, and tilts Ashe’s head up for another lingering kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> For MxTicketyBoo. Title from Hozier. Comments, kudos, bookmarks, and criticism are adored. I reply to all comments, though it may take me a bit. Check out my various social media and commission info at brightlyburning.carrd.co if you'd like!


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